Chapter 27 #2
But he was giving her a reassuring smile. “His grace is on guard duty by the inner gates. Not the outer ones, of course; Drumpellier isn’t completely stupid.”
“The duke is on guard duty?” Judith repeated stupidly. Her mind reeled. “How…?”
Ltn Greene held the door open, gesturing. “He has agreed to Drumpellier’s terms. The guard duty is to see if he can be trusted to follow orders.”
“And can he?” Judith numbly walked out of the tower room, watching as the lieutenant locked it again, then trailed after him down the stairs.
“Seems so,” said Ltn Greene cheerfully. “Though his memory regressed a little today. But it should be easy enough for you to speak with him.” He glanced back. “Might be good for him, poor fellow.”
Judith’s fists clenched in her skirts. She could not bring herself to refuse the opportunity: she must just hope that she reached Dacian before Perry and Robert did. Please God, let Yvette be supping on a cow or something, and keep them waiting.
And what if Dacian refused to go? What if he were content with his lot, happy to serve as a puppet of the Custos?
Her heart’s blood felt as if it were slowly draining away at the possibility that she might have to say goodbye, there with Ltn Greene watching.
But no: she had discussed this with Perry.
She wasn’t going to take no for answer. Dacian was coming with her, whether he liked it or not. He could chastise her for it later.
Ltn Greene led her down the cold tower stairs and out the main fortification.
The portcullis gleamed wickedly over her head, and the air was damp with sea mist. Her eyes searched desperately for Dacian, racing over the soldiers posted at intervals around the circling ramparts, one at each deep crenel.
Then her gaze travelled back, disbelieving, to one of them: a tall, familiar figure.
It was Dacian, dressed in an infantryman’s uniform.
His broad shoulders filled out the red coat, and the white cross-belts strained across his chest. The black hat made him seem even taller than usual, and his face was blank, his eyes fixed between the crenel gap.
His profile faced her, the grooves in his cheek hidden by the strap of his helmet, but the grim angle of his chin was apparent.
A little nervously, Ltn Greene led her to him. Judith also slowed her steps, unsure of her reception. She thought of the letter he had written and tried to feel encouraged, but the man before her seemed utterly a stranger.
Ltn Greene cleared his throat. “Corporal, a lady to see you.”
Dacian moved his head slightly and saw Judith. His gaze remained blank, without a flicker of recognition.
“Ma’am.” He gave a short bow. “May I serve you?”
Judith stared speechlessly. It was so odd to see him in uniform, and obedient. “Dacian, how are you? Do you remember me?”
“I do not.” His eyes shuttered. “My apologies, ma’am.”
It took Judith a moment to realise that his words rang true.
Her heart plummeted like a stone. It felt like the line that joined their two souls had snapped: rent by his disavowal, or no longer finding purchase in the emptiness that now dwelt in his eyes. It was as if the ground under her was tilting. She felt ill.
She gulped down her wave of nausea. “We spoke yesterday. Do you remember?” It was only yesterday that he had thrown that quip about chocolate at her and met her gaze with a secret warmth. There was no sign of that today.
‘No, ma’am.” Dacian glanced at Ltn Greene.
“I woke up this morning in the barracks with no recollection of how I came to be there. The lieutenant here explained to me that I have a rare condition of memory lapses, but it should return in time. He advised me to continue in my duties as an aid to recollection.”
Judith turned to stare at Ltn Greene with incredulity. His shoulders rose defensively and he widened his eyes: what else was I supposed to say?
“What happened?” she said coldly. “Did Drumpellier dose him up again?”
“No. It must be a regression from earlier doses.” Ltn Greene’s voice carried so little conviction that it sounded very much like a lie. Judith stared at him narrowly.
“What dose?” Dacian’s voice sharpened. “Dose of what?”
Ltn Greene backed away a step and held up his hands placatingly.
Judith hesitated. “A dose of Lethe. It is a drug of forgetfulness, and it is administered as a punishment.”
“Punishment?” Dacian jaw tightened. His hand went to the sword at his hip, the other one clenching into a fist. His large form was even more intimidating in a soldier’s uniform, and Ltn Greene took another hasty step back.
At that moment, however, Judith saw—to her horror—Perry and Robert coming around the side of the fortification.
A black shape darted before the boys, leading them towards the gate.
They marched side by side, in unison, just as they had practiced, though their posture looked ludicrously upright, their arms overly rigid.
Their gazes were fixed on the duke. Then Perry’s eyes flicked towards Judith and widened in alarm. After a heart-thumping moment, she discreetly gestured for them to proceed. She might need their help even more than she realised.
For she could feel a swell of power gathering in Dacian. His fist was still clenched, conjuring Impact as his impatience grew.
“Punishment for what?” he repeated, and the words were like rocks falling on ice.
Hastily, she put a hand out and closed it over his own. He blinked, startled, and the swirling power faltered.
“I can explain,” she said urgently. “You must not lash out. Please, Dacian. Wait.”